by Spencer Baum
“And you all will be punished,” Samantha said.
“Do you need more time to make sure that all of you are telling the truth?” said Jill.
“I don’t,” said Art. “I put my number on that scrap of napkin, and I trust Rosalyn and Andrea did the same. You two have made our options crystal clear tonight. It’s not in anybody’s interest to lie.”
“I didn’t lie either,” said Rosalyn.
Jill looked to Andrea. “And you?”
Andrea nodded her head. “I know I’ve told the truth,” she said.
Jill reached across the table and grabbed Andrea’s scrap of napkin first. Two digits were on the underside, written in smudgy black ink.
49.
Jill put the scrap in her pocket. Next she grabbed the scrap in front of Rosalyn and looked where she had written.
20.
Jill put that napkin in her pocket as well, and reached for Art’s.
4.
“I have good news,” said Jill. “All three of these numbers were unassigned on my spreadsheet.”
“Does that mean they’re telling the truth?” said Samantha.
Jill thought of the final numbers that were floating loose on her list, unattached to any names. 4, 20, 49, 71.
“Yes, I think they told the truth,” said Jill.
She closed her eyes. Was it done? She couldn’t believe it was done. Everything she had worked towards for the past four years had led her to this. With these three numbers, she could fill in the final question marks on her spreadsheet.
Andrea – 49.
Rosalyn – 20.
Art – 4.
That left only a single number between 1 and 99 that wasn’t already attached to a name. A single number that would tell her the last piece of the combination.
Mary Torrance – 71.
Chapter 37
The next night at chapel, Daciana pulled a Ping-Pong ball from the plastic globe, and called out a number.
“Forty-nine!” she announced, in a big, booming voice. The number resonated in Jill’s ears. As one of the four numbers that had been missing from her list for so long, her mind latched onto it, the way it might latch onto her own name.
Andrea stepped into the aisle and walked up to the altar. Jill looked across the pew, to where Samantha was sitting, and gave a single nod of her head.
Andrea had told the truth. If there were any doubts left about the accuracy of Jill’s spreadsheet, they disappeared when Andrea walked up to the altar.
Jill hoped Daciana would call Art and Rosalyn’s numbers too, but she didn’t. After Andrea, Daciana called forward seven people whose numbers Jill had known for months.
None of them opened the safe. None of them even got a single number of the combination correct.
Daciana dismissed the students and Jill left the chapel holding Ryan’s hand. She crawled into the Lamborghini, pulled down the door to close it, and said, “It’s time. I’m going to have Eve break into the chapel this week and return the missing Ping-Pong balls to the bin. You might get called up to the altar next week.”
“Tell me the combination again,” said Ryan.
“Ninety-eight on the first dial,” Jill said. “Seventy-seven on the second. Nineteen on the third, and seventy-one on the fourth.”
“Got it,” Ryan said. “I’ll practice it all week. Ninety-eight, seventy-seven, nineteen, seventy-one.”
“It’s four numbers, Ryan. I’m sure you don’t need to practice all week.
“Oh no, I’m going to burn those numbers into my brain,” he said, then he repeated the combination.
And repeated it again.
All the way home from the chapel, over and over again, long after it made sense for him to obsess over the numbers, Ryan practiced saying the combination.
“I think you’ve got it,” Jill said.
“I do,” said Ryan. “But winning Coronation for Nicky is so much more important than anything else, I’ve got to make sure those numbers stay in my mind. Ninety-eight, seventy-seven…”
By the time they got to Jill’s house, he wasn’t saying the numbers out loud, but Jill could tell he was still repeating them in his mind.
“Good night, Ryan.”
Ryan could barely be bothered to nod his head and wave goodbye.
It was curious to Jill that the discovery of the final missing number made Ryan so obsessive. For her, it did just the opposite. The entire combination now in-hand, there wasn’t any more snooping or manipulating or gaming to do, and after years of effort to get Nicky into Thorndike and win the Coronation contest for her, Jill could finally relax.
Before going to sleep that night, Jill sent a text to Eve, telling her it was time to break into the chapel and put the stolen Ping-Pong balls back into the globe. Then she put the mission entirely out of her mind, and spent the remainder of the weekend with Zack.
It was a peaceful, lazy weekend of sleeping late, eating at odd hours, snuggling on the sofa, and enjoying life. When she returned to her house on Sunday night, she felt a little like she was waking from a dream, like her time with Zack was an entirely separate reality from her life in Potomac.
No, not a separate reality, she thought. The only reality.
As fanciful as a lazy weekend with Zack might seem, in truth, it was more real than the life she had constructed for herself in Potomac. Everything about that life was a lie, from the person she pretended to be at school to the relationship she pretended to have with her family. It was a fantasy that was about to come to an end.
Late on Sunday night, Jill opened an encrypted folder hidden away in the depths of her computer. Inside that folder was a document, a letter she had written to her mother.
The letter was Jill’s plea to her mother to get out of town. It opened with a reminder to Carolyn that she had helped Jill hack into Renata’s phone, and was therefore just as guilty of treason as Jill.
They’ll want to look in your mind, the letter said. They’ll discover the truth about you.
The letter went on to invite Carolyn to meet up with Jill at a Network safe house, and to begin a new life where there would still be plenty of programming work to do.
When Jill wrote that letter, her intention was only to rescue her mother. Her father could rot as far as she was concerned.
At least, that’s the way she used to feel. Things were different now. As horrible as Walter had been, he didn’t deserve to be left behind. He deserved his own letter, one that would arrive in his Inbox at the same time Carolyn got hers.
She began to type.
Dear Dad,
As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, I’ve been up to no good. For a long time now, since freshman year actually, I’ve been engaged in treason.
I am an agent of the Network. We are at war with the Samarin clan, and I have been active in that fight for years. You don’t need to know all the details, but suffice it to say, I am an enemy of the state who would quickly be put to death if the clan had any idea what I’ve done.
If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m on the run, and you should be too. You might be tempted to stick it out, thinking you’ll be spared because you didn’t know about me, and if that’s your choice, I wish you luck. But I strongly recommend you leave. I can help you get out of town and start a new life somewhere else. If you want that, you have to call me right away.
Who knows, Dad? Maybe a new start is exactly what you need.
Jill closed the document and filed it away in the same folder as the letter to her mom.
“Two weeks,” she whispered. Two more weeks of school, then the spring carnival, then the prom, then her parents got their letters, and Jill was on the run.
Four years of work, building on generations of effort by Network agents from around the world, and only two weeks were left.
Once Ryan got the safe open, and Nicky won Coronation, Jill’s work on this mission was finished. From there, it was up to the assassins who were preparing to head into the Bloom mansion
on prom night and wait for Sergio.
Jill went to bed that night thinking about her legacy, and how history would judge the work she had done.
Two weeks. It will all be over in two weeks.
Chapter 38
Nicky took her usual spot in the back row of the chapel and waited for the other students to finish piling in. As she sat, one of Daciana’s servants emerged from the door in the back of the chapel, with the clear plastic globe of Ping-Pong balls in his hands. That globe, once full to the rim with white, plastic balls, was now mostly empty space.
Eighty students had been called up to try the safe. Eighty times Daciana had reached into that globe, removed a Ping-Pong ball, called a number, and invited a student to guess the combination.
Tonight she would call eight more.
The servant placed the globe on top of the safe. In the pews, the final stragglers were sitting down. Daciana emerged onto the altar through the back door and walked up to the safe.
“Welcome back, my friends,” she said. “I trust you all had a good week. Before I allow eight more of you to try your luck, we have a few announcements. The first is a reminder for the girls wearing black that your presence is required at Purgatory House tomorrow at eleven for brunch.”
Nicky kept her gaze straight ahead, knowing that everyone in her row was looking at her. The brunch at Purgatory House was a particularly sadistic tradition. After spending a year in brutal competition, the girls wearing black were required to sit together at a small table and chitchat, knowing that in just a matter of days, one of them would be immortal and another would be dead.
“Also, there are committee meetings for both the spring carnival and for prom this weekend,” Daciana continued. She smiled. “Putting on these fabulous events requires lots of work, doesn’t it?”
Nicky didn’t know if Daciana was joking or not. While it was true there were student committees who oversaw prom and the spring carnival, it was absurd to say there was a lot of work to do. Paid contractors and brainwashed servants did all the heavy lifting for both events. The student committee meetings were social gatherings, nothing more.
“Okay, enough housekeeping,” Daciana said. “Let’s get started.”
She reached into the plastic globe and pulled out a Ping-Pong ball. Looking at the number on it, a grin came over her face.
“Thirteen,” she announced.
The students immediately began shuffling around in their seats, some of them whispering frantically to the people next to them.
Jill warned Nicky this would happen. Thirteen was one of two numbers Eve had removed from the globe two months back, and returned earlier in the week.
Mattie Dupree stepped into the aisle.
“Thirteen is my number,” she said.
The whispers grew into angry and excited chatter.
Mattie’s number?
How could thirteen be Mattie’s number?
They tricked us.
Who? Who tricked us?
As Mattie approached the altar, people started to figure it out, and the chatter went from angry to complimentary.
I bet it was Jill’s idea.
Jill and Ryan. They’ve struck again.
All this time, they had us believing Samantha’s number was thirteen.
Kim never stood a chance.
“Welcome to the altar, Miss Dupree,” said Daciana. “It seems there was some confusion among your classmates about your number.”
Mattie smiled and nodded.
“Good girl,” Daciana said. “You have to be clever to survive in this town, and it seems you have been very clever.”
Mattie was beaming now. One day, she would remember this as the greatest moment in her life.
“For weeks and weeks, your peers have chosen number thirteen on the first dial of the safe,” said Daciana. “I believe they thought number thirteen belonged to someone else.”
“Yes, they did,” Mattie said quietly.
“Well now it’s your turn, Mattie. Have a go at the safe.”
Mattie leaned down and began spinning the dial with the diamond on it, then the ruby, the emerald, and finally, the sapphire. The crowd was noisy as they watched. Everyone was looking carefully at the numbers Mattie chose, wondering if this was it, if Mattie had one more surprise up her sleeve.
Mattie grabbed onto the handle of the safe and pulled.
A dull thunk, the same sound the safe had made eighty times before, filled the chapel. It was followed by a moan of disappointment from the audience.
“Sorry,” Mattie said with a smile. As she returned to her seat, Mattie looked in Samantha’s direction, and winked.
The next ball Daciana pulled from the globe was three. It brought Lisa Andrews up to the altar. She barely even tried, choosing instead to spin the four dials randomly and quickly tug at the handle, which thunked as it held closed. As Lisa went back to her seat, she passed in front of Samantha and whispered, “Congratulations.”
It was the start of a trend. The revelation that thirteen was Mattie’s number all this time was the final push that sent the Thorndike senior class off the edge. It was springtime in Washington. School was nearly out. Prom and graduation loomed. The seniors of Thorndike Academy were ready for the school year, and the Coronation contest, to be over.
And they were happy to see Kim Renwick lose.
Perry Johnson, Warner Silverstein, Chloe Kerrigan, Barbara King, and Evelyn Molina were the next five to be called to the altar. Every one of them had the same approach. They spun the dials at random, pulled on the handle, listened to the thunk as the door stayed shut, and congratulated Samantha as they went back to their seats.
With each number that was called, Nicky grew more anxious. At some point, either on this night or next Friday, Daciana would grab the Ping-Pong ball with Ryan’s number.
When she did, all these students who thought Coronation was already decided would have their worlds rocked.
The final student called up that night was Douglas Glade. He didn’t even bother to touch the dials. Leaving the combination as it was, he went straight to the handle. As he grabbed onto it, he said, “You’re going to make a wonderful immortal, Samantha.”
This time, when the door made the familiar not-going-to-open thunk, some in the audience cheered.
Douglas returned to his seat.
“Well, what an interesting turn of events this evening,” Daciana said. “It seems you all are united in your opinion of who will win Coronation. Perhaps you are right, but I will remind you that the contest isn’t complete.”
Daciana picked up the globe and shook it, allowing the few Ping-Pong balls still inside to rattle around.
“We gather here again next Friday,” she said. “Maybe every one of these people yet to be called will fail to open the safe. Or maybe they won’t. See you then, everyone. You are dismissed.”
*****
The next morning, Nicky returned to Thorndike, parking the Vicenza on the street and walking to the south side of campus.
She passed the Regents’ office, the physical plant, and the old gym, which on this morning was bustling with activity as the prom committee and their contractors prepared for the dance. After passing the gym, Nicky walked across a small courtyard and flower garden, staying to one side of the vine-covered trellis that backed up to the Purgatory House.
Nicky went around to the front door, where she found Kim, Mary, and Samantha waiting on the porch.
“Enjoy your little walk?” Kim said in a snarky voice. “You know, there’s parking right over there.”
She pointed at a vacant lot across the street.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Nicky said.
“Next time. You hear this?” Kim said to the other girls. “Someone’s already given up.”
“Would you shut up already?” Mary said. “I am so sick of listening to you. I’m going inside.”
“Me too,” said Samantha, who followed Mary through the front door.
&nbs
p; Kim waited on the porch for Nicky to climb the stairs.
“You ever been here before?” Kim said.
“Can’t say that I ever have.”
“It’s a trip. My daddy brought me here in January, and it rocked my world.”
“How so?”
“It made me realize that, as much as I wanted to win, it was even more important that I didn’t lose.”
From inside, an elderly woman called to them.
“Ladies, will you please join us in the house?”
“That’s Edith,” said Kim. “Owner of the most grating voice in the history of the world. Get ready. We’re gonna have to listen to that voice for the next hour and a half.”
Nicky and Kim went inside.
There was a buffet table in the front room. Eggs, fruit, hash browns, steamed vegetables, bacon, and half a dozen other brunch items in silver serving pots lined the table.
“Make a plate and sit down,” Edith said.
A minute later, the four girls wearing black, who had spent the past year as mortal enemies, were seated together at a tiny dining table, close enough that they had to take care not to bump elbows as they ate.
“Most years, when we gather for brunch, the girls pretty much know who is going to win the contest, and who is going to lose,” Edith said. “How wonderful that this year it’s different.”
“Hardly,” said Kim. “Unless one of these gals has a miracle up her sleeve, Samantha’s got this thing wrapped up, and this lovely lady right here is going to be Samantha’s first meal as an immortal.”
Kim was pointing at Mary, who made an ugly face in response. “You’re such a twat, Kim,” she muttered.
“Manners, Miss Torrance,” Kim said in a sing-song voice. “The Purgatory House isn’t a place for foul language.”
“On the contrary,” said Edith, “over the years, these walls have heard some of the most colorful words you can imagine, usually at this very brunch.”
